


Scent

by Augustus



Category: Rammstein
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-23
Updated: 2003-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul is careless; Christoph gets mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas To: Mez

There's a large, jagged hole in the front of Christoph's favourite woolly sweater. He can put his hand right through it and wiggle his fingers in irritation as they poke out the other side. Although it's a while since it was last cold enough to cover himself in unflattering layers of clothing, Christoph is quite positive that the hole wasn't there the last time he wore the sweater. It's too rough to be the work of hungry moths, which leaves him with the unavoidable conclusion that _someone_ has been messing with his wardrobe.

It's pretty obvious who that someone is likely to be.

"Paul!" he calls, only it's more of a bellow than a simple raising of his voice. Christoph is actually quite fond of his wardrobe and doesn't appreciate the implications raised by the destruction of his sweater. After all, what use is a man if he is not master of his own chest of drawers?

"PAUL!" Christoph shouts again, and this time the windowpanes rattle from the intensity of his growing fury. His fingers are shaking, and he's not sure whether it's from the cold or a sudden urge to strangle his bandmate. He thinks it could well be a combination of the two. 

When Paul finally appears, he is wrapped in a chequered blanket and sporting a large and furry hat as though it's ordinary indoor attire. "What's up?" he asks, studiously avoiding Christoph's eyes as he drops down onto Christoph's bed, bouncing up and down on the mattress a little as he waits for a response. 

Christoph doesn't speak until his hands unclench a little, breathing deeply in a futile attempt to calm himself. "Have you been wearing my sweater?" he asks eventually, a sharp upwards note tainting the otherwise cool inquisition in his voice. 

"Which sweater?" Guilelessly irresponsible, Paul frowns as though he really doesn't know.

Christoph throws the offending garment at him, experiencing a brief and unbecoming spark of amusement when the sweater lands in a sticky-heavy tangle around Paul's head. "No idea," he snaps, and at least this time his voice does what he expects of it.

"Oh, this one," Paul replies brightly, unwrapping himself. "Your favourite, isn't it?"

Christoph decides he may well have forgotten how words function, resorting to a low, strangled sound that wells from somewhere in the depths of his throat.

Paul watches him, his eyes curious. When no reply is forthcoming, he shrugs. "I might have worn it once. Or twice. Or fourteen times. I really can't remember."

"You _tore_ it," Christoph squawks when he can finally remember how to form phrases. "You wore my favourite sweater - without asking - and you tore it." He can feel a vein throbbing at his temple, his entire body tense and aching with irritation. He thinks that this might truly be the final straw, that there's nothing that Paul could say or do that could come close to making things better. "Why?"

Paul does a good line in looking sheepish. He smiles winningly, scuffing the toes of one foot against the floor as he watches Christoph through too-wide eyes. "It smells like you," he says finally, as though that's the only explanation he needs.

Christoph smiles slowly and realises that it is.

**~fin~  
23rd December 2003**


End file.
